


dreams

by kinpika



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Kerry's place really does need a clean though, M/M, No plot just something soft, Very vague late game spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28591929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: “Your place is a mess. ‘mells worse than where we parked the boat.”“You take that back.” Echoes of what he has said on the beach. One that has V grin, wider now.
Relationships: Kerry Eurodyne/Male V
Comments: 2
Kudos: 125





	dreams

**Author's Note:**

> i did not reread or edit this . just supposed to be smth stupid and soft. enjoy !

It’s five past too early in the morning, and Kerry is not greeted by sunlight streaming through gritty eyes. Dusty mouth, definitely, but that was a result of the noise. Rude awakening from what sounded like glass hitting tiles. As he rolls over, squinting at the time that flashes over his eyes, there is probably at least one loud thought.

Open planned housing. Never failed him yet, and he was glad it held up with his most recent guest.

Old groan, drawn up through metal chords. The kind he’d been hanging onto for a good half a century. Ironically in the presence of someone keeping hold of that same anchor, who was absently milling about in the landing below. Full view of the rising sun. If Kerry felt like being half the poet he claimed to be on a Thursday, he might comment on the gold catching burnt pink, new chrome, old scars.

Instead, he hangs over the rails, and stretches. A loud and resounding, “V, seriously, what the fuck are you doing?” that echoes.

His head snaps up then. Instant reaction, far more animated than Kerry could easily say the last few nights had been. If and when he had decided to make his presence known, V had been a little too quiet. Something something _time_ something something _Arasaka_. All mumbled into pillows as Kerry had strained to hear it. When eyes would fall to the side, as if seeing something else.

But Kerry doesn’t push. Just elbows on metal, cheek in hand. Still watching, still waiting. As quietly as a mouse, V finally drops another bottle into the bag he was holding. It doesn’t _clink_ as loudly as the others before it. Maybe it was cushioned by the pizza boxes sticking out. Maybe V just realised he wasn’t alone, or quiet, or all of the above.

And with that, he rubs the back of his neck. Mumbled ‘morning' that barely breaks ten steps up the stairs. Turned on his heel, into the other part of the house. Funny. Kind that has Kerry push away from the railing, and follow upstairs. Swiping a cigarette along the way, as V carves a path through piles of litter and destruction.

Had Kerry known about his many talents, he might’ve hired him as a cleaner. Couldn’t remember the last time he had actually seen the flooring. “When they say ‘burn the midnight oil’, I don’t think they mean this.”

Heavy footsteps down the stairs, rounding out to face him. He’s haggard and pale and if Kerry was anyone else, might’ve said they shouldn’t have opened that third bottle of wine. But he wasn’t always that person, he truly believed that in moments like this, where he takes the few steps closer. Trying to work out where the bait and switch should come into play.

V’s hair was wet. Stuck to his face and made him look like, quite frankly, a drowned rat. Shrinking in his clothes, droplets still running down from the ends. Shoulders drenched. Kerry almost found it adorable — a thought that was bordering on threatening, too many feelings, wrapped up in one easy breezy word that nearly breaks through his lips.

“What’s got’n into you?”

There is a face he makes, one that maybe with age he’ll stop pulling. Or enough chrome in there to never make a muscle move again. That twitch and slide, where he looks over the piano, brow raised.

“Not like that, you _gonk._ ”

Half smile, shoved up corners of his mouth in what could’ve been a far knowing smile two weeks prior. Tempered by exhaustion. A sigh that leaves him, hands through hair. Shakes water out, all over polished wood.

“Just been thinkin’.” And walking, as he’s on the move, upstairs once more. Kerry five steps behind.

“So much that you forgot how to talk?” Shouldn’t bite. Wrings his fingers behind V’s back. Johnny had been the one to say, _not much longer now_. And those days had stretched into a week, one more, third for good luck. Pushing it.

V leans on the railing too hard. Gonna put a dent in it if he wasn’t careful. Kerry found he didn’t give as much of a fuck as he should’ve. He really stopped giving a shit at some point of time, but all reasons for that pointed solid north. “S’not like that.”

“Tell me what it’s like then.”

And he was _all_ about opening up and talking about their feelings. Different from other relationships Kerry had. Whilst V had himself splashed over sites and pages, _Kerry Eurodyne’s New Input_ , that hadn’t phased him. Barely a blink when he had seen the advertisement, new release, hot off the press. Had even asked if he should graffiti one of the ten feet tall boards, broadcasting his face.

Then he would get all real, the kind where they even held hands across the table. Shit Kerry hadn’t imagined doing since he was twenty and sprung with that first love feeling. Sobered up since then. That’s what he would tell himself. That’s what he tells himself, as V lands in one of the bar stools, pushing old food and drink aside.

As Kerry is already rounding the other side, fixing him the kind of breakfast that plenty of people would weep over. In both the good and bad way. It’s blended, fresh fruit (he swears!), easy to fix and down. Only noise filling the space, as V twirls a cocktail stick between two fingers, and Kerry focuses on the way that yellow and pink and blue mix into something weirdly purple.

Slides the glass across, umbrella to decorate. Hands follow, holding one of his. V drinks deeply without hesitation, because. He trusts Kerry. Because he was hungry. Because it might’ve been the first thing in weeks he’d had to eat that wasn’t processed, and colour starts to fill his cheeks again.

“What’s goin’ on?”

V slows. Pulling away from the straw, setting the glass aside. Precise movements. Focused movements. Was he using that damn implant again? Kerry had half a mind to open his mouth, say anything, only to be cut off only by V’s left hand landing on his right. Warm metal meeting old callouses.

“I just… had to move, y’know? Get my feet going.”

“You leaving already?”

No intention for his voice to slide the way it does. Earns him a small smile, tighter hold on his fingers. “Nah, don’t have plans for the day.”

Kerry hears himself say, _oh, okay, cool_ , and nothing else. Hyper-focus on where they are joined. Blames it on feedback and the way he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. Swallowing down relief, as V swings his legs around.

“Your place is a mess. ‘mells worse than where we parked the boat.”

“You take that back.” Echoes of what he has said on the beach. One that has V grin, wider now.

“It’s _true_ , Ker. How you can live here…”

His voice trails off, and Kerry does take the slightest bit of offence. Captures it with pulling V’s clasped hand up to his lips, kissing along still bruised knuckles. “Don’t ever insult my house again,” is what he says, sweetly with a cherry on top that finally earns him a laugh.

Full belly kind of laugh, where Kerry can watch compounded scars crumple and form. Broken lips and forehead that looks like it had taken a walk through some barbwire. Little bits of life that Kerry had wiped away himself. Didn’t want to be reminded anymore. But now?

Keeps V’s hand close. So much so that fingers extend, cupping Kerry’s cheek in a warm embrace. Thumb that drags along the rise, chipped polish, smudging whatever still remained on Kerry’s skin.

“I’m serious. Clean up.”

“Ehhh, you’re already halfway done. Finish, and I’ll give you a tip.” Signed, sealed, delivered with a wink, press of lips to the inside of his wrist.

There’s more colour to him now, electric blue. Fingers that work their way through short strands, before he huffs, turns. More energy to his step, even if he doesn’t quite make it all the way down to pick up anything else Kerry had abandoned. Off the top of his head, he could think of at least six personal doctors who might be able to help V, in any way they could. Another handful of treatments, one more of the street kind of work. All so very within reach, should he want them.

Kerry just piles glasses in each other. In the sink. Possessed by something awful and weirdly fulfilling, when V hears him. Look over his shoulder, and there is a look that was. New. Fresh. Different from what Kerry swears he _remembers_ seeing before. He’d be lying if he said he could recall fifty years worth of life, down to the exact details. Make a hand wave, to it being fifty _years_ , so how could he? Yet he could recall Samurai by heart, all those years.

Like that blur had broken, ghosts put to rest. V is nimble down the stairs once more, heavy on the railing, but dragging bags of trash behind him. Shaking out his hair when he’s all the way down, fingers through to flick out whatever water remained. Movements not hindered by time.

(even, Kerry knew, as he checks the clock, that it was running out)

“Ker, hurry up! Got shitloads more to do.”

No more lingering. Throws himself over the bar once more, picking up whatever V had so graciously left for him. He could only imagine the spreads if someone saw them like this. Heaving bags onto the doorstep, still in mismatched clothes and last night’s makeup. Kerry couldn’t decide if he liked this or not, even as V throws an arm around his shoulder, leaning in too much to be a coincidence.

But there was that smile. Real and open and all the kinds of things that managed to get at his still beating heart. No hard edges, no mean streak in sight. V smiled at him, and all at once. Kerry felt himself falling, just a little more.

Just that dangerous fraction more.


End file.
